


I'm Obsessed

by Cheylock



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awkward Shower Scene is Awkward, Awkwardness, Blowjobs, Body Worship, Embarrassment, Established Relationship, Fear of Rejection, Ficlet, Just Feels In General, M/M, Panic Attack, Prompt Fic, Stilinski Family Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-20
Updated: 2012-09-23
Packaged: 2017-11-14 15:48:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/516994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheylock/pseuds/Cheylock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has some very important questions for his boyfriend, Isaac Lahey, about all sorts of wolf-type business. These have not been addressed yet because they've only been dating for 8 months and give a guy a little time to work, yeah? Can't just go storming in with that, have to get to know him as a person before you just completely drown him in curiosity. </p><p>Sheesh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. With the Curve of Your Neck

**Author's Note:**

  * For [burntotears](https://archiveofourown.org/users/burntotears/gifts).



“Seriously, why do you want to know?” Isaac crosses his arms over his chest, quirks his head to the side, and sets his mouth in a thin line that always always always makes Stiles want to reach out and cup his face, make him tilt his head into it, make him smile.

Stiles looks away and around, taking in the crowded hallway, and thinks better of himself. “I dunno, I just…I figure it’s important, and you guys all know—you experience it—so there’s usually no point in any attempt at serious honest discussion of well…anything about it.” Stiles bites his lip, fighting the urge to use specifics. “Please can we talk about it?”

“ _Here_?!” Isaac’s eyes are wild, the pupils dilated, and he’s hunching his back in this particular way that Stiles has seen somewhere before. It gnaws at his skull from the inside a little, grates inside his head, before he realizes that Isaac is looking at him a little desperately. Like he really really doesn’t want to talk about it here…but he would for Stiles. The thought makes warmth bloom in his stomach and he blurts out the first thought that comes to mind.

“Dude, no! I mean like at my house. Tonight? After lacrosse practice? At maybe six?” He raises hopeful eyes, and feels a bit of breath squeeze unwillingly out of his chest. Even though he and Isaac’ve been dating for almost eight months, and they’ve met up for dinner and a movie at his house probably fifty times now, asking always makes Stiles _waaay_ more nervous than it ought to. He’s really used to rejection—so used to it he’d almost stopped asking. He keeps expecting it…

“Tonight at maybe six. Can I just ride home with you?” Isaac smiles at him, tilting his head, extending his chin. Relief is obvious in the line of his shoulders and the way his eyebrows go from scrunched to smooth and the thin line of his mouth broadens to reveal his lips again.

…and keeps being surprised by its absence. Stiles smiles back and nods, lets himself glide his hands to Isaac’s neck, gently rolling his fingers in the light curls of gold there. Isaac quirks an eyebrow, his lips curled up on the right just a little, flashing the tiniest bit of tooth. _I can’t believe he still thinks he has to ask permission._ Stiles leans forward and kisses him, just a quick “I have to go I’ll see you later but you’re too fucking beautiful not to put my mouth on” smack with a disappointing and sad absence of tongue, and then he pulls away, sliding his hand under Isaac’s chin as he moves; he feels more than hears the low rumble that grinds its way through Isaac’s chest to vibrate in his throat. Stiles walks away just as the bell rings, trying hard not to swagger; he’s simultaneously intrigued and aroused, which of course leaves him to deal with a very uncomfortable boner in U.S. History.

After about twenty minutes he remembers Scott’s tip about flexing his leg muscles,and is relieved to feel said boner wilt, then melt away completely. Sadly the Civil War lecture doesn’t hold his attention for long, and less than five minutes later his chaotic thoughts swivel around and take a distinctive turn into Isaac territory.

 

He wrestles with his thoughts (and his dick) for two more miserable periods in all, and then it’s off to lacrosse practice. He’d thank whatever deity he could get his hands on if it weren’t for the fact that his locker’s right beside Isaac’s this year, and it is all too easy to skate his eyes over him as he changes, and the only deity he wants to bother with right now is less than a foot away from him. The man is legitimately physically a god.

They’ve never actually seen each other fully naked before—carefully timed showers and an overabundance of modesty have ensured that, they haven’t even talked about it—but boxers are fair-but-unfair game because even though it’s okay to look, even though they’re basically just shorts, he still feels a fleeting species of guilt. He’s never once caught Isaac peeking at him coming back from the shower or changing or anything, and he has no idea how he’d react if he did, so he promises himself (and Isaac) mentally that he’ll stop being such a lecherous and horny turd…

…for the eightieth time this year. It would be more, but it’s still September. At this point all it means is “I’ll stop looking at his ridiculous body for today”, and he knows it, and it is probably his most depressing thought like…ever. Well, not ever, but still, he feels like a bad boyfriend. A creepy boyfriend. A boyfriend that should not be trusted.

So hey, he likes repeating the word ‘boyfriend’ to himself. Hmm. He wonders if Isaac does it, too, turning it over and over in his mind in disbelief and amazement and sheer happiness—

And then he realizes he’s on the field with a ball hurtling toward him at inhuman speeds. He does what any reasonable person would do and leaps forward and down, flattening himself to the grass.

“Stilinski! You’re the goalie! If you let one pass I’m making you lose the helmet!”

“Can you do that, Coach?”

“GREENBURG I SWEAR TO GOD—”

Stiles looks up from his place sprawling in front of the goal at Scott, half winded but grinning, and Scott smiles down at him. He looks way too satisfied. “Yeah, Stilinski, get up and do your job!”

“Just trying to avoid embarrassing you, McCall.” He gets up and makes a show of brushing off his shoulders. Then he licks his lips, squares his shoulders, zones in…

And the ball zings less than an inch away from his stick, popping high in the left corner of the net.

“Helmet off, Stilinski!”

Stiles sighs and complies.

 

After the second-longest practice of his 3-year high school career, he is more frustrated and exhausted than he’s ever been because of lacrosse. He totally bites it as goalie. It doesn’t help that there are three werewolves on the team that aren’t giving him any slack, but that’s not the only reason he’s terrible. And he’s more angry that he’s angry about it than angry about sucking. _I mean come on, I had to deal with a psycho grandpa beating my ass after a game, even though I was about fifty years younger and totally more spry. I should not be phased by being terrible, of all things. I suck at a lot of stuff…so why does this one eat at me?_

He gets to his locker, opens it, and then leans half his body in, breathing deep. Seriously, this is just sad. He grits his teeth a little, kicks off his cleats and stashes them, then proceeds to strip and slip on his flip flops because high school showers. Ew.

He’s concentrating hard on his every action—trying to force the frustration out by staying in his head and in the moment in a way that’s just unnatural to him. He’s hoping to jar himself out of his sudden funk before Isaac comes over—he wants to be able to enjoy their conversation later, and be non-sulky enough to really pay attention and not be caught up in his own crap to the point that he forgets to ask the hard-hitting questions and oh god he hadn’t even thought to check and make sure Isaac hadn’t gone in yet.

Water is sluicing off Isaac's shoulders and Stiles is damn determined not to follow its path downward no matter how much he wants to. Isaac’s head is tilted into the water, his curls are smoothing out and holy mother of everything he needs to get the hell _out of here_. He turns, but there are three other boys headed his way and he thinks of how spastic he was on the field today and how spastic it’ll look if he waddles out of the showers bone-dry; everyone knows he and Isaac are dating, but it’s the opposite of a big deal, and the team doesn’t need to know that they’ve never seen each other naked because Stiles would never hear the end of it. Danny doesn’t start blushing like a schoolgirl and avoiding the showers because he started dating someone who also happened to shower there after games and practice and fucking Phys. Ed. and yep okay his mind’s gone off on a tangent and he’s mentally rambling oh god this cannot be healthy—

Stiles essentially stumbles and swivels his way under a shower, any shower at all, and turns the water on cold, full blast. A dude passing close behind him yelps, but Stiles doesn’t move or cry out or try to ease away from the skin-blasting ray of absolute fucking ice that is screaming over his skin now goddamn how is the water this cold are they piping it in from fucking _Alaska_ seriously what the fuck—

And then there is a disgruntled sigh from his right and he realizes that he can, in fact, get colder that Alaska water. Much colder. He turns his head as Isaac turns his, probably to find out what idiot is dowsing his left side with goddamn glacier, and their eyes meet. Stiles blushes despite the fact that his blood is definitely trying to congeal around his heart, and Isaac turns completely scarlet and looks upwards, towards the spray currently dowsing his face.

“Sorry.” Stiles’s voice is barely a squeak. He honestly can’t say how he’s getting breath in his lungs right now—he feels like the ultimate creeper and he really wishes he’d just had the sense to scoot out before Isaac saw him, before he saw Isaac…like this. Naked without permission. God, could he be any worse a boyfriend? Hell, any creepier a dude?

“Jesus, Stiles! You scared the hell out of me.” Stiles watches Isaac lean forward and to the left, his own spray, and reach over, hands shaking, to dial the hot on all the way, and the cold to only half on Stiles’s shower knobs. The difference is gradual but the air comes a little easier, and he turns more fully toward Isaac, still firmly concentrating on his upper body—

But Isaac’s not looking at him and that makes it harder to not look at Isaac. Water is clinging to his skin, rolling down it, and it’s glistening in the light coming from the top row of what are basically (in their baser nature) prison windows and his curls are hanging damp and almost-straight and he’s seen Isaac with his shirt off but he never noticed before how slender he is, how sleek and muscled-without-seeming-bulky he is, how powerful his neck and back look, and then Isaac’s looking at him again and Stiles flicks his tongue over his mouth without thinking about it, without thinking about anything but the line of Isaac’s long arms tangled in his own hair and wishing they were in his hair instead, what little of it he has.

Isaac is slack-jawed and his pupils are blown and the curve of his neck leading down into his chest and the slope of his back and shoulders and that motherfucking _collar bone_ and he looks hungry which should not make Stiles shiver with need he barely understands, because it was a long day and the poor guy probably just needs a burger and _stop reading into things, Stiles, not everyone is as horny as you are all the time_ Lydia snaps in his head and Stiles gulps hard and concentrates on washing up and getting the hell out.

He succeeds at looking completely and totally at his own body and only his own body for all of two and a half minutes before he realizes that if he’s angled just the right way, scrubbing his ankles, he can look at Isaac’s legs without seeing anything…else. (Not that he’s, you know, not interested in looking, but he was raised to be respectful and he’s not going to be crossing any lines he was raised behind today. Probably. If he can help it.)

He’d seen the guy in shorts over the summer, yeah, but he hadn’t been paying attention and he wants to beat himself over the head for it. He didn’t know that he had a thing for legs, especially _man_ legs, but apparently he does. Isaac's legs are curiously amazing and definitely fascinating and so fucking _long_. He really wants to examine the actual ratio of torso-to-legs on Isaac, because how can a person look this long and not remind him of Slenderman at all? Come on, the guy’s so hot it makes him want to do _math_. That cannot be healthy.

Stiles smiles just a little and stands, satisfied in the thought that his speed-cleaning is through and that if he ogles Isaac any longer he’ll have to request that Isaac slap him, just to prevent the eventual guilt and garbled confession later. He turns the water off and turns to go—and realizes that Isaac has just done the same thing beside him.

A flush starts to creep its way over his skin, and he knows if he thinks about it too much he’ll pop a boner and just officially prevent both of them from walking out with their dignity and sanity still intact. He’s probably making it a way bigger deal than it actually is, they're both eighteen and it's not like they're nuns, but he seriously can’t help it, he’s panicking and he has no idea how to calm down—

And then Isaac looks at him, eyes huge, face red as a tomato, visibly trying not to freak out, and Stiles knows. Stiles smiles, takes his hand, and leads his boyfriend off to get a towel.

 

They don’t talk at all as they dress, or as they walk to Stiles’s Jeep. Stiles half-expects Isaac to make an excuse and ditch, the plans were last-minute anyway and they weren’t concrete or anything, just based on his intense and rampant curiosity that they all know he couldn’t control even if he tried, which he doesn’t much anymore, and Isaac is looking at him with that cocked eyebrow that means “Dude what the hell are you waiting for?”

“Um?” Stiles honestly has no idea what he’s done to warrant that look, a ‘fuck off’ sure, but a vaguely insistent ‘come on’, that’s just weird—

And Isaac is clearing his throat and eying the door and oh. Yeah, okay, Stiles is _actually_ a fucking idiot. He’d been standing at the door of his Jeep without moving for probably ten minutes, just waiting for Isaac to come around to his side and make something up and ditch him.

He unlocks the door and leans over to unlock Isaac’s, staring up at him through the glass, grinning like a fool.

As Isaac slips into the seat beside him, Stiles feels his heart hitch up in his chest, just a little. The sun’s screaming through Isaac’s hair, and he looks immeasurably god-like and awkward in equal parts, and the way his face is quirked in mingled embarrassment and relief is just completely and utterly unfair.


	2. With the Smell of Your Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Isaac have some dinner with Mr. Stilinski, and afterwards Isaac learns just how deep Stiles's affection for him runs. Isaac tries to show Stiles how deep his own feelings are, but Stiles manages to one-up him. Like six different times.
> 
> *insert completely appropriate fist-pump here*

The drive to his house proceeds as usual—Isaac pulls out a CD filled to the brim with bands Stiles has never heard of (but will immediately Google the moment Isaac leaves). He pops it into the Jeep’s CD player and Stiles’s ears are immediately assaulted, but in kind of a sexy way. The songs are usually incredible, and this set is no exception—the first one’s by some random Seattle band called Shift Man Shift (Isaac shouted it during the first fifteen seconds of the song) and both Stiles and Isaac are half-dancing in a way that would be embarrassing if the song didn’t demand it of their bodies.

It only takes ten minutes to get to Stiles’s house from the school, but (as usual) he burns up gas like crazy, driving in weaving webs that make sense only to him for a little over an hour, pulling into his driveway just as the first song plays again. He puts his Jeep in park, turns on the parking break, turns the music down to a distant hum and shifts toward Isaac, making a ‘shall we’ motion towards the house with both his arms and eyebrows.

“I don’t know how you always manage that.” Isaac’s smiling down at his lap, blushing just a little, and Stiles feels his heart beat out something crazy in his chest, not unlike the staccato beat slamming its way through the leg he has pressed against the speaker embedded in his door. He fights the urge to laugh, because seriously, when someone looks that _open_ you just…can’t.

“Isaac?”

A smile twitches its way out of Isaac’s face—he’s obviously trying to stop, to suppress it, to stay cool, but he’s not getting anywhere. He looks up at Stiles through his lashes and Stiles feels that crazy thrashing in his chest speed up, like his heart’s trying to get out of his chest and slather itself all over Isaac and okay, never mind, freaky mental picture. “Yeah?”

Stiles taps the display on his semi-decent sound system, last year’s Christmas present. There’s a smaller counter directly under the display of how long the song is, and it gives the total length of the CD. He knows he looks smug as hell, but he really can’t help it; he noticed something the werewolf didn’t. Just once.

From the look on Isaac’s face, he will never know he’s done it ever again. His face is all twisted, he’s hunching in on himself a little, and Stiles has a brief flash of fear that somehow he’s _really_ fucked up…

And then Isaac’s laughing, shaking the entire car with the force of it, and Stiles can’t help chuckling a little because seriously, he has no idea how but _he did that_. Isaac’s humor’s like that a lot of the time—Stiles’ll get off about fifteen good jokes during the day, and Isaac’ll barely crack a smile; then they’ll be alone and Stiles’ll do something that’s maybe slightly amusing and Isaac’ll laugh until he cries. Stiles likes to think it’s because Isaac feels like he can let loose around him—not because he’s funnier when he’s not paying attention.

Isaac sucks in a deep breath, wipes tears from his eyes, and looks over at Stiles like he’s trying not to look directly at the sun. He’s still hunched over. “You seriously don’t get how funny that was?”

“Nope, and I’m totally okay with it. Unless there’s something in my teeth or I have something on my face. You should probably mention that.”

Isaac’s grin calms a little and he reaches out and takes Stiles’s hand. He knits their fingers together and says “Nothing in your teeth. Nothing on your face. You’re just…you’re the most disarming person I’ve ever seen, Stiles.”

Stiles has no idea how he’s supposed to react to that, so he just quirks his eyebrows at Isaac and pulls on his arm until Isaac gives and leans toward him. This time when their lips meet it’s a slightly longer “holy shit I really fucking adore everything about you but we have to stay kind of chill because it’s only 7 and my dad’ll be here until 9” kiss with just a little tongue; less than Stiles would like, but he’s not complaining. Stiles pulls away when he feels like his heart’s about to explode out of his chest (a rather common occurrence, if he’s honest) and nods his head towards the house.

“So uh yeah um I still have to make dinner so we should probably um go inside now?” It falls out of his mouth in a rush and he desperately pretends that he didn’t just stumble over the word ‘dinner’ so hard it probably sounded like ‘digimon’ but he still feels a flush creep its way over his face and neck.

Isaac makes that growling noise again and he feels it rumble through the seat and straight into his cock. _Yep okay awesome gotta go hug my dad like this_. Luckily at the thought of his father it wilts, and Stiles feels his lips quirk up. _Have to remember_ that _for school_. He tries not to feel like a skeeze and just barely manages.

Stiles unbuckles himself and clicks the button on Isaac’s seatbelt, too. Isaac ejects his CD and pops it into the jeweled case. This one’s orange. There’s no label on it, but Stiles’ll fix that when Isaac goes home; he adds the date, length, and his favorite song number. The result is that he has about ten different CDs per number and Stiles has had to start making song books for each one, because as well as he remembers 01/14 or 05/24 or 08/02, he’d like to know what was on each CD without basically reliving the drive. Not that that’s a bad thing, just not exactly time-efficient. He’s caught himself daydreaming while looking for a certain song he feels like listening to an innumerable amount of times, and he'd decided enough was enough last week.

Then again, Stiles is just glad they’d gotten fewer once Isaac realized that Stiles wasn’t pulling in until they were finished listening—the first ones were actually sets of four, each CD an hour long, Isaac popping them in one after the other before Stiles could stop him. They’ve gone down to one a ride and Stiles’s wallet and the Jeep’s tires thank Isaac for that.

Isaac hands him the CD case, he slips it into his backpack, and they get out in tandem, both locking the doors seconds after they open them. They walk into the house through the front door—it may take a bit longer than going in by the garage, but they get to hold hands longer, so at least there’s that.

 

Stiles and Isaac are greeted as usual by the Sheriff—a snort, a smile, and a hug for both of them. Then the normal “how was school” bit, in which Isaac actually responds enthusiastically, talking about projects he’s been assigned and homework he’ll probably wind up doing at 3 AM tonight after Stiles finally lets him go. Stiles is busy with dinner but tries to split his attention between listening to them and not burning anything. He really shouldn’t worry about burning food, though—Isaac’s paying more attention to both the food and Stiles’s dad than Stiles himself is, and Stiles should feel bad about it, but it’s actually really awesome to see Isaac turning the heat down on the rice while babbling animatedly at Stiles’s dad about what they did in Physics today.

Stiles is usually the one doing the babbling, but once Isaac’d realized that Mr. Stilinski actually cares about everything he’s doing, in school and out, he’d taken to their conversations with the air of a starved person consuming the best fucking pizza ever, and okay Stiles really needs to work on his metaphors today, but it works. There’s a lightness to Isaac like this that Stiles just can’t get over.

Dad clears his throat and Stiles looks over at him, yet another flush burning his skin. “Thank you for saving the chicken, Isaac. Seems like Stiles has a lot on his mind tonight.” He chuckles a little and Stiles’s flush deepens.

“Sorry! Um, do you know how to mix it all together, Isaac?” This isn’t the first time he’s zoned out staring at Isaac in front of his dad, but it never ceases to be painfully embarrassing.

“Nope, no idea, we’ve eaten this like twelve times and I still feel totally lost once we get past actually cooking things.” Isaac looks at Stiles with his brow scrunched up, biting his bottom lip a little, and Stiles has to seriously fight to remember what he’s doing.

“It’s not hard, look…” Stiles takes the plate of chicken from Isaac, and explains quickly how to mix the meat, peas, rice, carrots, and seasonings into a loose approximation of the Stilinski Family’s Ultimate Chicken-N-Rice Without Anything From A Can Because We’re Trying To Eat Well. Isaac’s smiling the whole time, and Stiles winds up wishing they had more to cook so he could keep that look on his face, somewhere between safety and relaxation that basically equates to content.

By the time they’re finished, Dad only has twenty minutes left to eat and get ready. They wind up scarfing their food, sometimes catching each other’s eyes and smiling, but all three quiet until the forks start scraping up empty. As Dad gets up he tells both of them earnestly that that was the best Ultimate Chicken-N-Rice he’s ever eaten. Isaac grins and he’s practically beaming with pride, and Stiles shoots his dad a grateful look.

“Thanks, Dad. Love you be safe have a good night at work.”

Stiles’s dad smiles, the corners of his eyes wrinkling up, and he winks at Stiles. “You boys, too. You know, not the work thing, but the rest. Not too late now, you guys.”

Stiles keeps smiling for about two seconds before his brain processes that _his dad basically just made a safe sex joke_. “Oh my god, Dad!” It just pops out of his mouth, and they’d both probably be better off if he’d never said it, but he seriously can't stop himself. Isaac looks about ready to crawl under the table and die, and his dad is laughing like an insane person.

“Come on, guys, it’s a joke! Seriously, just be safe and careful and Isaac, if you sleep over again you don’t have to crawl out of the window and wait in Stiles’s Jeep to go to school, what kind of sense does that even make? Just come downstairs like a normal person, I’m not gonna be mad! I’d rather you guys were safe here then unsafe somewhere else, and you’re both eighteen so I can’t really say anything, okay? Have fun tonight, guys!”

Stiles is very close to crawling under the table himself. He’s staring at his father in abject horror, and Isaac has scooted his body so far down in the chair that only his eyes are visible from Stiles’s vantage point. They are enormous and fixed on his near-empty plate. “DAD! Seriously, you can’t just…just…SAY stuff like that! Get out and go get ready for work, you freakin’ pervert! God! Seriously Dad! What the hell even!”

His father is laughing— _laughing jesus hell Dad you basically just killed Isaac—_ in the doorway, and he calls back “At least I know you guys aren’t having sex now!”

Stiles’s mouth drops open and he wants to abruptly die. He takes a deep breath and half-screams “YEAH BUT YOU BASICALLY JUST SAID IT WAS OKAY TO HAVE SEX HERE, IN YOUR HOUSE, AS LONG AS WE HAVE A CONDOM, DAD. I’LL REMEMBER THAT.”

The laughter from approximately the living room drops off, and Stiles’s momentary satisfaction’s wiped out as he realizes what just came out of his mouth. He looks apologetically over at Isaac, who is in basically the same position and the color of beet sauce all the way to his hairline. Stiles’s voice is strained as he lowers the volume, just slightly, and says, “This is why my father should never try to weasel information out of me. It always turns out bad. I am so, so sorry Isaac, and have I ever mentioned that I suspect I was adopted?”

Isaac pulls himself back up to a normal sitting position, though his face is still a rictus of embarrassment and horror and Stiles can’t really blame him. His face is almost purple, and he makes opening his mouth to grunt out an “oh my god never again I’m sorry I’m avoiding your dad until I’m eighty” look like the most painful thing he’s ever suffered, which is hard, because Stiles has totally seen him with an arm that was more hamburger meat than limb, and has totally watched that wad of skin and sinew and bone and blood knit itself back together until it was functional, _and_ Isaac was conscious the entire time. Shit, there’s probably been worse than that.

Stiles reaches out to take Isaac’s hand just as his dad peeks around the door, and Stiles jerks his hand back like it’s been burned. “Holy crap Dad, how much more psychological damage do you want to cause tonight? Sheesh.”

 _Finally_ his dad looks suitably embarrassed. “Look, boys, I’m sorry, I just…honestly I have no idea what the hell I was thinking, that was a conversation I should’ve had with Stiles, in private, and I…Stiles, why are you looking at me like that?”

Stiles’s mouth is open, and he’s pointing a shaking finger at his father. “OH MY GOD YOU GOT LAID. YOU TOTALLY FINALLY SLEPT WITH SCOTT’S MOM, DIDN’T YOU?!” Isaac flinches and he inwardly berates himself about the yelling, but he kind of feels like he can’t breathe and he can’t bring himself to regret it.

The way his dad goes pale and picks up his hands in defense is enough for Stiles. “OH MY GOD YOU TOTALLY DID YOU DIRTY OLD MAN HOLY SHIT GO TO WORK, BEFORE I CALL MS. MCCALL AND TELL HER THAT YOU GUYS AREN’T ALLOWED TO HAVE SEX BEFORE WE HAVE TO HANG OUT BECAUSE IT MAKES YOU TOO RELAXED AND YOU WIND UP SAYING REALLY DUMB CREEPY AWKWARD THINGS TO YOUR KID. GOD, DAD, GET OUT. NO, NO, NO, DON’T TELL ISAAC GOODBYE, YOU JUST TRAUMATIZED BOTH OF US, GET OUT!”

Stiles realizes he’s standing in the doorway yelling his dad into his patrol car, and one final bolt of combined incredulity and indignation nearly blots out his vision. He yells, “AND IF I DECIDE TO FUCK MY BOYFRIEND TONIGHT, YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO SAY A DAMN WORD,” and slams the door.

 

He realizes how stupid that was about three seconds later and all the feeling drains out of his legs. He leans his back against the door and collapses onto the floor, all the breath slipping out of him in a rush. His chest locks up and he feels childish tears press out of his eyes. He’s shaking, and he seriously can’t breathe holy shit there is no air in his lungs, they’re making great huge tearing noises when he tries to inhale and his chest is killing him he feels like he’s going to die and then Isaac is there, staring into his face, murmuring things he can’t hear, but Isaac’s eyes are there and that helps some, but they’re not Isaac’s eyes, they’re golden, and Stiles is being picked up, being carried, shaking like he’s coming apart, but someone has an arm around his waist and an arm under his legs and he wraps his arms around their neck and buries his face in their curly hair and oh it’s Isaac why’s Isaac carrying him where are they going why can’t he breathe why does he feel like his chest is being torn open like an autopsy what the fuck is happening and oh. Oh. _Oh_.

Isaac is holding him tightly, and he’s on the couch, and he’s gripping Isaac’s neck and shoulders so hard they’re bruising (granted they’re healing as soon as he lets up the pressure but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t scare the shit out of him) and he’s barely getting breath in through clenched teeth but _it’s coming back into his lungs_ he’s not going to drown on fear and he coughs a few times, quick things that pull at the edges but further flood his lungs with air and the dark stops creeping into his vision and Isaac looks so, so afraid and he’s sitting in Isaac’s lap like a little kid and he sort of comes back to himself as he watches Isaac watching him.

His heart is still fluttering nervously. “Sorry.” He half-gulps air around the word, and he’s not sure Isaac understands, but Isaac must not have because he’s shaking his head. Stiles tries again. “Sorry.” This one’s a little clearer but saying it right has his chest locking up again.

“Don’t be sorry, please don’t be sorry, I’ve got you. Don’t say it again, please. Just…I’m just here. I’ve got you.” Isaac runs his fingers through Stiles’s stubby hair, right by the nape of his neck, and Stiles feels a kiss pressed into his temple. “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere and I’ve got you.”

Stiles hadn’t even realized he was crying, but there was the evidence, soaking into his cheek when he put it back on Isaac’s shoulder. He’s trying really hard not to sob now but broken sounds are just streaming out of his mouth, and he can’t stop, and he can’t stop _crying_ and _sheesh way to win ‘boyfriend of the year’ yeah sure threaten to fuck him and then sob all over him goddamn what’re you trying to_ do _make_ sure _he dumps you get a grip you slobbering idiot_.

He tries berating himself, tries internally soothing himself, and nothing works. He can’t make himself stop crying and Isaac just keeps saying things like “I’m here I promise” and “You can talk if you want if you can but you don’t have to” and Stiles opens his mouth to say sorry again but what winds up coming out is “She’s really gone.”

Isaac goes very very still, but his hands keep rubbing soothing circles into the back of Stiles’s head. “I mean, I know that, I do know that, I am aware of that, she died over six years ago, I was there, I’m aware of the fact that she’s dead, but it still _hurts_ it shouldn’t _hurt_ this badly I should be used to it but goddamn it it _hurts_ and I don’t know what to do with it…” He dissolves into incoherent sobs again, and Isaac doesn’t shush him or call him selfish or anything, even though he knows he’s behaving like a six-year-old.

“I just never expected him to move on, how fucking _awful_ is that? I mean, he’s been in mourning for this entire time and he just took his wedding ring off last month and yes I want him to be happy, I want him to be so, so happy, and I want him to find somebody else and I love Ms. McCall she’s awesome but I don’t know I just…”

“You miss your mom. And you feel really dumb right now because you can’t stop crying over something you feel is really stupid.”

Stiles nods into Isaac’s shoulder, hearing his own breath hitch.

Isaac strokes his hand, feather-light, further down Stiles’s neck and then back up. “It’s not stupid. It hurts to let go. It’s probably scary that your dad is after all this time. That’s okay. It’s not wrong, and you’re not wishing him unhappy, and you’re not being selfish. You just miss your mom, and that’s okay. You’re not betraying him or her or anyone, Stiles, and nobody’s going to forget her. This doesn’t mean that, and I know you know it doesn’t, but sometimes it feels better to hear it out loud.”

Stiles cries even harder at that, it’s the perfect thing and for fuck’s sake it’s exactly what he needed to hear how the hell could Isaac _know_ that. He wraps his arms around Isaac’s shoulders and neck again, gentler this time, and cries himself out. It feels like it takes hours, but when he lifts his head and blearily peers at the clock on the cable display over the tv, it’s only 9:45. His dad’s been gone for a little under an hour. Stiles takes a shaky breath and looks back at Isaac.

Isaac’s eyes are huge and afraid but still somehow calm, and he’s chewing on the inside of his left cheek. Stiles kisses the corner of his mouth a little shyly and Isaac gives him a small smile.

Stiles stiffly gets off Isaac’s legs—if he had any complaints about his boyfriend’s lithe and basically fucking delectable body, it’s that it is painful as hell to sit in his lap for any extended period of time. As he stands, rubbing his legs and his butt, Isaac groans and twitches his leg muscles, and vague satisfaction shoots along Stiles’s darker interior—at least being a werewolf doesn’t make you immune to having your legs fall asleep. Stiles smiles at Isaac and Isaac smiles at Stiles and for a second, all is right with the world. Then a wave of tiredness shoots through Stiles and he feels his legs go wobbly again—Isaac is on his feet with an arm around Stiles’s waist before Stiles can really even register it, and Stiles laughs out loud.

“Okay, so was the leg twitching to get rid of an inappropriate boner or…?” Isaac turns that weird plum shade again and Stiles laughs harder. “Scott told me about that one, too! Oh my god, seriously though, Isaac?”

Isaac looks at him, eyebrow raised. “Okay, so it’s suddenly okay to talk about getting erections and things? Because don’t think I didn’t notice that earlier in the car.”

Stiles feels a flush steal over basically his entire body and he gulps. Hard. “Uh. Okay, is there something in the air that’s making the Stilinski men say reeeaaaallly inappropriate things? Because that was really inappropriate. Sorry.”

Isaac gives him a wide, toothy grin, showing his canines, and Stiles shivers. “’S not _that_ inappropriate. We’re eighteen, we haven’t even given each other so much as a handjob and we’ve been dating for _eight months_ , you did see me naked today, it _has_ to be on your mind.”

Stiles’s flush deepens ( _seriously I’m a fucking schoolgirl today_ ) and he blurts the first thing that comes to mind. “I didn’t see you naked. Well. I did. But I didn’t look at…anything I haven’t already seen.”

Isaac laughs. “Okay, that’s just sad. This whole overly-modest thing we have going on is just sad. Stiles, our entire lacrosse team has seen more of me than my boyfriend has.” _There’s that heart malfunction_. “That is just insane.” Isaac licks his upper teeth, sexy to the damn core, and Stiles feels himself grow almost painfully hard.

“Are you seriously…Isaac Lahey, are you coming on to me?” Stiles can’t help but feel incredulous, because Isaac’s been as shy as he has about the whole ‘sex’ thing.

“Maybe? We can pretend I was joking if you want.” Suddenly Isaac looks a lot less secure, and Stiles wants to laugh, but he can’t, because seriously, how is he allowed to look that _sincere_?

“Um? I don’t want to forget you said it, but I seriously do not want to add that layer of emotional trauma onto the one I have working tonight.” Isaac’s whole face basically twitches before realigning itself to a haughty “I’m fine” expression and Stiles realizes exactly what he said. “Okay no seriously don’t look like that I promise I’m not trying to be an asshole, here, I’m just dumb, we’ve discussed this, I say stupid shit—Isaac, having sex with you would probably be the least traumatizing thing ever, it would probably set my trauma-thermometer back to zero,” at this incoherent attempt at a joke, Isaac laughs, looking a lot less closed off, and Stiles feels good enough to slog through the rest of his interior monologue, “but I don’t know about losing my virginity.” Isaac’s face changes and now he just looks mystified, as if Stiles had declared himself the Pope. “Yeah I know, I’m way too hot not to have ‘done it’ or whatever, but I haven’t yet, and I don’t mean like ‘with a man’ or ‘with a woman’ or whatever, literally with _anyone_ , and I want to be stable and secure enough to really _really_ fucking enjoy it, yeah? Not that you wouldn’t make me, I don’t doubt that for a second! But if I mess up or something I want to be able to deal with it like right then, yeah? I don’t want…I don’t want to hurt you, okay?”

Isaac’s face has gone through like forty degrees of emotion, and he smiles at Stiles and wraps both hands around his waist. “Okay.” Then Isaac kisses him and Stiles almost feels like he misheard and Isaac actually said “I’m gonna make you beg for it, deal with it.”

They finally pull away, Stiles gasping because _finally the right amount of tongue_ and Isaac smiling and breathing at least a bit harder than normal. “Most disarming person ever, seriously. Come on, let’s go to your room.”

Stiles kind of starts at that, but he trusts Isaac, so he lets the taller boy lead him up the stairs by the hand, smiling down at him every now and then with a fierce glint in his eye.

 

Stiles gets into the room and starts toward the bed, but he’s startled into turning sideways by a gasp. Isaac is staring at something on his computer desk and _oh shit seriously I am the dumbest person alive_.

Most of the CDs he’s accumulated from his time dating Isaac are (seemingly) scattered in front of his computer monitor pell-mell. He’s been inserting his own handmade CD books into them, with the lyrics to every song and a little blurb about which playlist it’s on in his iTunes (to combat the whole “having ten CDs labeled ‘One’” issue he has going on). It’s something to do when the insomnia creeps up on him besides pouring over his Wolf Almanac on nights Isaac is busy with pack, and he usually remembers to pack them all up before he goes to bed, but he was almost late for school today and yep okay that’s Isaac kissing him.

Isaac’s mouth is soft on his, tentative, and something hot and slick uncoils itself in Stiles’s chest. He shoves himself into the kiss, sucking on Isaac’s bottom lip, then gliding his tongue into Isaac’s mouth, shivering when their tongues meet and Isaac’s undulates against his. Isaac’s hands are in his hair, gently tugging and shit Stiles didn’t even know he _liked_ that until just now. Stiles can feel his heart helter-skeltering in his chest. He does his best to tune it out as Isaac responds to his enthusiasm with some of his own, backing Stiles onto the bed and licking into his mouth as Stiles hits the edge of the bed. He sits down and Isaac straddles him, wrapping his legs around Stiles’s hips, and Stiles holds one hand behind himself and runs one up Isaac’s side, feeling the powerful curvature and the hard muscle and _oh my fucking god he’s doing that growling thing again._

Stiles becomes aware of the fact that he’s basically moaning into his boyfriend’s mouth and he shivers all over, tilting his head and deepening the kiss, feeling his fingers dig into Isaac’s side, and Isaac moans into his mouth and Stiles feels suddenly very overstimulated. He pulls back to take a deep breath, opens his eyes, and sees Isaac with his head tilted just to the left and his eyes heavy-lidded and gold-rimmed and his lips are slick and his pupils are fucking _blown_ and a helpless shiver skitters across Stiles’s spine and he is painfully hard and Isaac’s hands are in his hair, his elbows resting on Stiles’s chest just so, and Isaac pulls him into another kiss and in pulling him tugs his hair and his cock _twitches_ and he groans, hard, and wraps both his arms around Isaac’s torso and drags him closer, feels Isaac’s ass skate over his cock through his jeans, and Stiles can’t help himself, his hips buck up, but he doesn’t have time to feel ashamed because Isaac is grinding down onto him and _holy fuck why did I want to wait again oh my god this feels so fucking good this is with_ clothes _between for fuck’s sake_.

Then alarm bells flair up because suddenly Isaac is not on top of him, is in fact across the room breathing hard, looking like he’s thinking about heading out the window, and Stiles holds both his hands up in surrender, aware that his jeans are just tight enough to clearly outline the shape of his cock trying to break free of the fabric, aware that Isaac’s jeans are tight enough to leave absolutely _nothing_ to the imagination and Stiles has been doing a metric fuck-ton of imagining, thank you very much. Isaac’s breath is gusting out too fast, and his eyes are normal-but-unimaginably-beautiful blue, and Stiles doesn’t feel shredded anywhere but in his chest so he’s pretty sure Isaac didn’t wolf out and try to turn him into sushi and he can’t think of anything that would make Isaac back off so he does the only think he can think to do—he whines high up in his throat and motions for Isaac to come back with his hands, his eyes huge and his brow knotted, doing his best puppy face that yes maybe he learned from Scott but he’s not going to think about that right now because hello, very into this situation, wants this situation to continue, showing visible proof of enjoying situation is a good thing.

Isaac smiles at him, shakes his head a little, and Stiles sighs. “Okay, what did I do? Do I need to take back what I said earlier? Because I seriously rescind that fucking statement about not being ready, fuck that statement, that statement _lies_ , okay? Just get back over here and let me stick my tongue in your mouth, please?” Isaac visibly shivers and Stiles can see how hard it is for him to hold himself back.

“I want to…oh my god Stiles I want you so bad.” Stiles licks his lips and Isaac groans and puts his hands behind his back. Stiles can’t see but he knows he’s twisting his fingers up into knots. “I want you so bad, I want all of you but this is _such_ a bad time, we really shouldn’t yet…”

“Goddamn it Isaac I was being a coward! The _real_ reason I haven’t fucked you or blown you or jerked you off is because I am fucking terrified of how much I want you, this is not an ‘I’m afraid you’re going to hurt me’ thing or an ‘I’m such a blushing virgin I don’t know if I can’ thing jesus fucking christ have you _seen_ you? I’ve been trying to convince myself that you actually fucking want me as much as I want you since that first goddamn date Isaac and I _know_ you do I really really do but I’m just Captain-Fucking-Insecure and that’s not your fault and that’s not my dick’s fault so can we just not punish either one of you for it? Please?”

Isaac laughs out loud and sits on the floor, wincing a little. “’S not that, Stiles—I trust you to tell me if you’re not ready or if you don’t want to, but you wanted to ask me about some stuff about the werewolf thing, yeah?” He’s suddenly so relaxed and it’s not _fair_ , Stiles almost thought he was going to blow his load there for a second and we’ll see how Isaac feels about that—

Stiles moves to get up, planning on tackling the shit out of his boyfriend and sucking on his neck in that way he knows drives Isaac abso-fucking-lutely wild but his blood cools a little and some of it has to have returned to his brain, because he scoots back on the bed a little, leans down, rests his elbows on his knees, and seriously thinks about going through with the conversation from earlier. He takes a deep breath and stares up at Isaac, who seems to be casting about for anything to look at and anything to do besides taking a flying leap at Stiles and holding him down and making him _beg_ for it and Stiles has to look away and breathe because seriously he might beg for it anyway he doesn’t need any help from his imagination. He takes a deep breath, shaky and long, but he looks up when he hears pages rustling.

“Stiles? Seriously?” And yeah, okay, he is the _biggest fucking idiot_ , because one does not simply leave their Wolf Almanac out for their distinctly wolf-y boyfriend to peruse. That is weird as hell. “Are these color-coded!?” And you did not color-code sticky-notes and highlighter colors for your werewolf friends without telling them. Also weird. “Is Derek seriously pink!?” And you don’t make the Alpha’s color pink, even if it is totally the color that suits him most. Probably weirdest of all.

Stiles scrabbles down onto the floor and tries to snatch the Almanac out of Isaac’s hands, but Isaac shifts the book out of the way, still in his eye line but too far away for Stiles to see what page he’s on. “I know it looks kind of weird but it’s coded so no one from the outside can really tell what I’m making notes about and everyone’s names are weird and I promise it just looks like something I’m doing for my online mythical creatures thing mostly I swear!”

Isaac looks at him, his mouth quirked, eyes alight with fondness and a definite lack of horror or disgust or rejection—all three the only things Stiles expected to find there. Not…bemusement? Is Isaac seriously laughing at him? Okay, that is actually a lot worse than disgust or horror. Rejection still takes the top tier, but mocking? Really? “Stiles! This is actually a really good idea. I’m serious, don’t look at me like I’m about to laugh at you, this is really smart! I mean, some of this is totally wrong, but that’s not at all your fault, we haven’t exactly been open about it—how long have you had this thing?”

Stiles can’t help but smile, and Isaac is looking at him like he’s so amazed and grateful, Stiles doesn’t really know how to hold up under the gaze, so he caves and looks down at the book, lovingly smoothing out a crinkle in one of the lavender-colored sticky notes. “I got it about three months after Scott got bit. We had no idea what to expect—Sourwolf wasn’t really giving us any help and I just figured…you guys aren’t wolves, but you’re some rough approximation in some ways, right? Like with some aspects of pack dynamic and things and I just…I really wanted to help. So I started making notes. And then you and Erica and Boyd showed up, and I had to get more sticky notes and highlighters because it’s gotta be different for everyone, right?”

Isaac nods at him. “So you’ve had this thing for a little under three years?”

“Mhm. It sounds like a long time when you just say it out loud like that. It’s just…some things were good to know before hand, you know? Like the whole ‘breeding season’ thing, that was good…but this guy, Robert H. Busch, he is freaking impossible to get a hold of! I’ve sent him like fifteen letters and he only replied to the last one—telling me to cease and desist. I mean really, what a douche. You want to know some specifics about she-wolves in heat, suddenly you’re a total psychopa—” Stiles is cut off by Isaac’s mouth on his, giving him a harsh and fierce kiss that clicks their teeth together, but Stiles is at once too pleased and too enraptured to really care. Just as he starts to dive into it, Isaac pulls himself away. Stiles grabs for him, but Isaac puts his hand out.

“Stiles. Am I orange?”

“No, you’re blue. See? Scott’s orange.”

“And Boyd is purple and Erica is yellow and this really awful green is Jackson! Yeah, that makes sense. What’s this underlining and the notebook paper?”

“Enemies. Those alphas from before. Peter Hale.”

“Peter doesn’t get a color?”

“Sorry, they don’t make that many highlighter colors that actually continue to function as something other than markers. And he did try to kill my friends several times, it’s only fair. Isaac…are you seriously going through and reading all the blue ones?”

Isaac’s flicking through the book, reading the notes. “Yes, and you can’t not let me. Oh my god, you’ve dated everything! How do you even write that small and it still be legible? But really, this is valuable information, Stiles. These are things I need to know, you can’t just—hey!”

Stiles somehow manages to snatch the book away from Isaac and clutch it to his chest. “Okay, you’re starting to sound like you’re making fun of me. Just thought I’d warn you. You laughing at me equals no book time. Got it?”

Isaac looks affronted. “Got it. But I wasn’t! Do you have any idea what kind of look this is giving me to the inside of your head? This is fascinating, Stiles, I’m not being a dick just…please will you let me read?”

Isaac’s definitely been taking puppy-dog look tutorials from Scott, because he’s way better at it then Stiles is. “Ugh. Fine. But seriously if you laugh at me I will be seriously pissed, mister. There is some vaguely embarrassing stuff in here that I can’t believe I wrote down, but I might let you read it because I trust you and you are kind of too beautiful to look at right now, but I’m not totally sure, because really, this is like one-hundred-percent not funny material, and if you laugh at anything without explaining it to me I’m burning this and getting a new copy and _there will be no blue_ , understood?”

Isaac bites down hard on his bottom lip, and Stiles can tell he’s trying to suppress a laugh but it’s okay because Isaac is really seriously trying not to, and maybe it’s okay if he does. That was sort of funny in a desperate-and-overly-sincere way, yeah? Isaac swallows, then nods, and Stiles blows out a breath and offers the book to him.

“Just… this thing means a lot to me, okay? I have put so much effort into this. Take me seriously right now. Please?”

“Because I don’t usually,” Isaac deadpans. “Stiles. Relax.”

And Stiles does, because it’s the truth. Isaac’s always been the one to actually talk to him about his ideas instead of dismissing him offhand, and he seems genuinely interested even when Stiles winds up chattering himself into circles _he_ can barely understand.

Stiles firmly believes that we don’t often recognize choices in our lives that significantly impact us until later (like Turn Left, from Doctor Who), but he feels like this is something that’s going to matter later. He hands over the book, wraps one arm around Isaac’s, and lets his boyfriend read some of his most private thoughts about him, now realizing just how unpleasant that plum color of Isaac’s really feels.

 

Stiles has no idea how long it actually lasts, but they make it through the whole book. Sometimes Isaac’ll nudge Stiles and point at a scribbled word, one almost entirely illegible, and Stiles will murmur ‘legs’ or ‘muscles’ or ‘beautiful’ or ‘I swear to fucking God Isaac you are just fucking with me, seriously, you can read that one fine, yes that says ‘proportionally smaller hands,’ why the hell are you laughing! What did I say?’ and Isaac’ll choke it down and keep reading with a straight face. Isaac keeps sucking in breaths and caressing Stiles’s hand (there’s no better word for it which is just _unfair_ , he thought ‘caress’ only belonged in dime-store romance novels and there should be a nicer word for something that makes that shrill silver shiver skate up and down his spine) and making _noises_ that make Stiles want to climb him like a tree, and yeah they really shouldn’t have waited this long, what in the hell was Stiles _thinking_ , of course they were ready, they’d been ready two months ago when Stiles’d first felt the inexplicable _need_ tugging his chest that he’s come to associate with Isaac’s mouth, _nothing_ could be wrong with that mouth on him.

 

Stiles must’ve nodded off (probably somewhere around page fifty), because he feels a warm slickness gliding over his neck and he’s immediately hard and vaguely disoriented. His eyes flicker open with a moan, catching half-lidded. The patch of ceiling over his bed swims into view, and he feels Isaac’s curls rubbing against his jaw. Isaac’s breathing deeply into his neck, quietly muttering things that have Stiles whimpering within seconds.

“Stiles you realize that you basically just wrote me a love letter in highlighter and sticky-notes, how do you manage to make that the hottest fucking thing ever? Fuck, Stiles, wake up, I want to suck your cock, do you want me to suck your cock?”

All Stiles can do is whine far back in his throat and press his shaking hands to Isaac’s hair, knotting his fingers in it, arching his back up, lifting his body against the bed—whoa, okay, yeah, he’s on the bed now, that’s good to know—but Issac quickly chases thoughts of his location away with his tongue and his lips roving over Stiles’s neck, and then Isaac clearly sucks in a deep breath, groaning and shivering down into the area just over his adam’s apple, nipping the skin on Stiles’s collar bone, and Stiles realizes that he must’ve gotten to the ‘Scent Marking’ section, which Stiles has jerked off thinking about at least once.

“You think this is hot, Stiles? Hmm?” Isaac sucks in another deep breath, tilting his head and basically rubbing his face on Stiles’s skin, kissing the tender place under his chin, and Stiles finally gets a read on where Isaac actually is in relation to himself—Isaac is leaning over the edge of the bed, only touching Stiles with his face, and Stiles can’t quite handle that.

“Yes” he gasps out, and slides his hands down Isaac’s shoulders, down his upper arms, until he finally locates his elbows—he pulls Isaac’s elbows and Isaac finally gets the picture but he doesn’t lean in close like Stiles wants—he hooks a leg onto the bed and drags until it catches the far side of Stiles’s hip, then pulls his other leg onto the bed, leaning up and staring down at Stiles, and something about the light glinting off the gold in Isaac’s hair and throwing half his face in shadow and the way he’s fucking _shaking_ makes the shred of self-doubt tying Stiles up and keeping him still shred into tatters.

Stiles runs his fingers up Isaac’s sides, feeling the muscle and then his ribs, so hard under the skin and shirt, and then slides them back down—Isaac leans his head back and closes his eyes, bites his lip and Stiles’s hips jerk upwards without warning for either one of them—Isaac’s eyes don’t even open, he just rides the motion, and Stiles’s hands grip his hips and make another experimental thrust.

The friction’s doing a little something for him, but it’s mostly the visual, and he figures Isaac’s eyes are shut tight because he’s just… _imagining_. Stiles is harder than he’s ever been in his entire fucking _life_ and he can’t help but groan as he thinks of how it’d look—Isaac riding his cock, naked and _god if he keeps doing that growling thing I’m just gonna cum—_

The thought’s cut off as Isaac seats himself more firmly on Stiles’s lap and touches the edge of Stiles’s shirt, eyes inquiring. Stiles can’t think anything but _yes_ and he leans forward and wriggles out of his shirt, feeling Isaac rock against his cock as he leans up. He tosses it away from him and leans back again, reaching toward the edge of Isaac’s t-shirt, but Isaac stops him.

“Just…Stiles let me look. _Please_.” Isaac licks his lips and Stiles feels that lighting race along his spine, making his whole body tingle. Isaac’s eyes are dark, huge, and the fact that Stiles _put that look on his face_ makes his heart squeak in his chest, and he suddenly realizes how hard and loud the blood is pounding in his ears, realizes that Isaac can _hear_ how turned on Stiles is right now, and Stiles eases his fingers under Isaac’s shirt, gently running his fingers along the almost-painfully soft skin just above his jeans, and Isaac shutters, his eyelids kind of _flutter_ a little and _oh god, it needs to come off. It needs to come off **now.**_

Apparently Isaac agrees because he grabs his shirt and shucks it off, but Stiles can’t help but notice how his muscles fucking _work_ for it, how the contour of his spine smooths out, and as his stomach is revealed Stiles’s fingers won’t listen to him, they don’t ask permission, and Stiles just _touches_.

He slides his fingers up higher and higher on Isaac, feeling the lines of his body, finally finally touching what he’s visually obsessed over for so long. He gently runs his hands over the down of hair that leads down instead of up, but Stiles isn’t following that signpost just yet. Oh, he will, but first he needs that _mouth_ , ugh he’s never needed Isaac to kiss him more—something usual and something safe and something that’s not that scary because they’ve done so much of it—

And it seems like Isaac needs it, too, because he leans his head into Stiles’s hand when it glides up his neck and cups his cheek, and Isaac bends down to him and presses his mouth to Stiles’s and gently swipes his tongue over Stiles’s bottom lip and Stiles feels his heart stutter and he jerks his hips up he really can’t help it _goddamn_ they’ve made out shirtless before but it’s different, less innocent and more purposeful now, and he runs his hand up Isaac’s back and just _groans_ because really this is unfair, him existing is unfair, the way he grips Stiles’s neck, like he’s going to float away if he’s not clutching him, is unfair, and Stiles finds himself reaching down and grabbing Isaac’s ass, he’s never done _that_ before, wanted to wanted to wanted to but never ever done and he feels Isaac yelp and freeze for a second before grinding himself down on Stiles’s crotch and flinging himself into the kiss and Stiles feels all of his muscles tighten up because if he doesn’t hold himself together he’s just going to start humping Isaac’s ass and completely completely ruin it and then Isaac is pulling back, just a little, and his pupils are _blown_ and his hands are shaking against Stiles’s neck and Stiles looks up at him and knows his mouth is lolling open but he can’t help it because Isaac is flushed and his mouth is slick and swollen and Stiles really truly has no idea what he’s done to deserve this, but he’d do it again and again and again because he’s never wanted anything more than those cheekbones, those fucking _endless_ blue eyes, and that smile with just a single canine that’s whispering for consent.

It’s then he realizes that he’s giving it, he’s whispering “Please Isaac please do whatever you want to me I want you to do whatever you want to me I love you,” and he sort of half-freezes and gulps and Isaac doesn’t seem to react much which sends a spike of icy panic through Stiles’s heart and Isaac’s focused completely on Stiles’s mouth and he whispers “I love you too” as if by route and there are trumpets and fireworks but for once in his life Stiles is still, mostly still terrified because _holy shit we just said that_ but then Isaac smiles and Stiles knows that even if it was accidental they both meant it and no one’s going to have a breakdown over it they’re both okay and Stiles says again “Isaac do whatever you want to me I love you” and Isaac’s smile turns into a moan and Stiles watches it leave his mouth in abject and absolute fascination but closes his eyes most of the way a second later when Isaac kisses his neck, and _goddamn it he’s growling again_ but Stiles just pools his arms around Isaac’s shoulders and _makes_ himself relax because he’s never relaxed but goddamn it he’s going to relax right now and his heart’s rattling in his chest and he’s trying so so hard to keep his teeth from chattering because he’s got a huge case of the I’ve-never-been-this-fucking-nervous-or-this-very-arrroused shivers and then Isaac’s basically kissing it out of him, roving Stiles’s torso with his hands, kissing every bit of skin he can get his lips on, whispering things like “Stiles you don’t know how fucking gorgeous you are” and Stiles half-laughs because _gorgeous, really_ but it still turns him on because Isaac obviously means it and then Isaac is licking Stiles’s left nipple and _holy fucking shit no wonder girls like that goddamn_ and his blood is not blood but electricity and then Isaac is licking straight down the middle of his torso, making a wet line that burns like fire on contact and then turns to ice in the next few seconds and Isaac’s hands are at his belt and “is this okay” breaks through the pounding in his ears and Stiles says “Yes please yes anything Isaac please” and then he’s just saying please with his hands in Isaac’s hair not pulling or pushing just feeling and Isaac is fumbling with his button and zipper and Stiles reaches down and undoes the buttons himself and hooks his fingers under the waistband of his pants and underwear and wow okay Isaac has scooted _way_ far down his body he’s like hovering over his knees and this is actually _really hot_ but a lump of fear accumulates in his lower stomach at the thought of being naked in front of _that_ so he sort of hesitates a little and Isaac sees it.

Isaac puts his hands on Stiles’s hands just as Stiles works his pants almost low enough on his hips to see his cock and Isaac stares at the skin there and then takes a deep breath and looks Stiles in the face and says “We don’t have to do this” and Stiles kind of half-laughs and it sounds panicky even to him but he says “I want to I want to so bad I want to Isaac please sorry I’m just nervous ha ha right but I’m okay I want this” and Isaac solemnly leans forward and kisses him until all the knots relax out and loosen and his muscles are muscles and not bunched wire and Isaac half-whispers “I want to put my mouth on you, Stiles. Do you want me to?” and Stiles shivers all over at the thought and nods once and Isaac smiles at him and says “Okay but stop me if I hurt you or if it’s too much or anything okay please” and Stiles realizes suddenly that he’s not the only one who’s nervous.

“Isaac, have you ever done this before?” he asks quietly and Isaac sort of laughs and says “Nope, but I’m hoping enthusiasm makes up for inexperience” and Stiles just has to smile at that because really, basically the story of his life. Isaac kisses him, hard and insistent and making his skin burn and Isaac says “Can I take your pants off” and Stiles remembers that they’re mostly off and says “no” but before Isaac can really react he’s pulled them off and tossed them off the foot of his bed and Isaac gasps out loud.

Isaac kisses him again and then kisses his neck again and _sucks_ and Stiles is melting, Stiles is putty, Stiles is moaning and he completely forgets that he’s naked until Isaac is sliding his hand down the trail of dark hair leading downward and then gently, so gently wraps his hand around Stiles’s cock and Stiles half-moans half-screams and turns his head and bites the fuck down on Isaac’s shoulder and Isaac’s hand stutters and Isaac moans into the hickey he’s working on and then pulls away from Stiles with glazed eyes, licking his lips and then kissing down Stiles’s body, pausing to nip at his nipple and Stiles feels his cock jerk in Isaac’s hand and Isaac’s breath hitching and then he looks down his body at Isaac trailing his tongue towards Stiles’s cock and _he’s looking up at me_ and Stiles clutches the sheets and screams out “ _Fuck_ , Isaac!” and he hears an appreciative little chuckle and wants to cram Isaac’s whole length in his mouth and see what sounds _he_ makes when he’s got somebody fucking worshipping his body with their mouth and then he remembers he gets to and the burning heat in his belly cools off a little until he looks back down and sees Isaac perched between his legs, one hand on his thigh and the other curled loosely around his dick, staring at him.

Stiles says _“Isaac Please”_ and that’s apparently what Isaac needed because his tongue flicks out and licks the head, and Stiles shoves a fist into his mouth to keep himself from screaming. And then Isaac’s taken it into his mouth and Stiles’s hips buck but Isaac’s hand is there, holding him steady, and then he feels Isaac taking his hand and he squeezes it when Isaac lowers his head onto Stiles’s cock and Stiles cries out in pleasure because his mouth is just _so fucking tight and wet and oh my_ god _Isaac’s tongue is on my dick_ and Stiles pulls his fist out of his mouth and runs his fingers through Isaac’s hair, feeling his head bob minutely up and down, and Stiles groans and he realizes another good reason to keep his fist in his mouth—he can’t stop talking.

“Yeah, Isaac, just like that, oh my god, oh my god, Isaac your mouth feels so good” runs out of his mouth on a loop, with variations of cursing and “you have no idea what you’re doing to me Isaac you’re so fucking perfect” and then Isaac leans forward and takes as much of Stiles as he can and Stiles _screams_ out Isaac’s name and Isaac does that fucking growling thing again and “I’m gonna cum Isaac I’m gonna cum seriously Isaac please oh god Isaac Isaac _Isaac_ ” and with that he blows his load and Isaac doesn’t stop, sucks it down with a groan and Stiles feels torn between hot and gross but then he thinks about Isaac coming down _his_ throat and he feels his cock pulse and Isaac groan onto his cock again and he’s pretty sure he whites out for a second because Isaac is standing at his desk, drinking a huge swallow of water from the bottle Stiles left there this morning and then swishing some around in his mouth briefly and Stiles is hovering between mortified and sympathetic until Isaac is crossing the room and tossing the bottle down beside the bed and kissing Stiles with such _need_ that Stiles shivers and grabs at him and pulls him down onto the bed and basically wraps himself around Isaac, fighting off sleepiness with the thought that _goddamn it it’s Isaac’s turn_.

They kiss for an indeterminate amount of time, Isaac shaking so much it kind of scares Stiles until he imagines having to sit through The Wolf Almanac _and_ blowing Isaac without so much as touching himself without having cum even once, and Stiles’s already cum twice today, once by his own hand and once by Isaac’s _mouth_ and Stiles shivers again that is the opposite of fair and then Stiles pulls away and looks at Isaac’s face.

“Was it good? I’m sorry if I hurt you, was it—” and Stiles cuts Isaac off with a kiss that he hopes expresses every fucking bit of amazement and desire he feels at _just_ how good that was, and Isaac pulls away first, looking stunned but vaguely satisfied. “Well, if it was _that_ good” and Stiles growls a “Shut up” at him and slams their mouths together again.

Stiles should seriously start wearing a watch during these trysts or whatever, because he has absolutely no idea how long they kiss and it’s kind of important because he wants to do this before Isaac starts getting tired. He pulls away again and quietly asks “Isaac, how sleepy are you right now?”

He barely waits for the “Not very” before kissing Isaac’s neck, sucking briefly on the spot just under Isaac’s jawline, and feeling Isaac writhe under him, whimpering, and hell _yes_ Stiles wants to keep making him make that noise, and he semi-mimics Isaac, licking all over his neck because he knows how good it felt, but of course more quickly and with way less finesse because that is straight-up just who he is, but with the sounds Isaac’s making, who is is pretty fucking spectacular. Stiles bites down on Isaac’s shoulder again, remembering the way he moaned into it earlier, and Stiles isn’t surprised that Isaac gasps and clutches at Stiles’s back—a better word would be ‘satisfied’. He then licks down to Isaac’s nipple, giving it a nip before sucking on it, and he sees why Isaac didn’t do it much because it does seem kind of weird to him, but it’s making Isaac yelp so he kind of doesn’t give a shit, and he plays with it until Isaac is saying _“Stiles_ ” in this high insistent way and Stiles has to lick farther down Isaac, and when he reaches the golden trail of down that points the way, he firmly presses his tongue onto it as he skitters farther down the bed like a spider, picking his body up so that the only thing really touching Isaac is his tongue, and Isaac reaches down to undo his pants when Stiles leans up, having gotten comfortable between Isaac’s legs, but he murmurs “no let me” and licks along the edges of Isaac’s pants, at his hips, and Isaac whines his name again and Stiles palms Isaac’s cock under the fabric of his jeans and he hears Isaac make this rolling moan and if Stiles was a werewolf he would literally just rip the fuckers off and cram it in his mouth but he makes himself calm down, makes his shaky fingers unbutton and unzip Isaac’s pants deftly and without any catching, and then he lifts his body up on his legs and shoves Isaac’s pants and boxers down in one go _because seriously Isaac if I don’t get boxers you don’t either_.

Then Isaac helps him by kicking them the rest of the way off when they get bunched up around Isaac’s calves, and Stiles looks up at him before looking down at his cock and _goddamn it why do I feel like I’m about to drool_? Apparently Isaac’s jeans did leave something to the imagination, and Stiles smiles and gently kisses Isaac’s hips, marveling at the way the bones feel under his fingers, slowly making his way towards Isaac’s cock before switching to the other hip when Isaac grits out “Stiles please” and Stiles looks up at him, and the lust in his eyes feels like it’s baking Stiles’s skin, and Stiles leans down and takes it into his mouth, and the noises that are streaming out of Isaac’s mouth are almost enough to make him hard again. He wraps one hand around the base and then down he goes and back up and back down, setting a slow, steady rhythm. He may have zero experience, but he has watched a _lot_ of porn, and he keeps his eyes on Isaac’s face in case he needs to stop. Isaac’s gripping the sheets like Stiles must’ve been, and Stiles would reach out and hold his hand but he needs the balancing hand on Isaac’s hip because if he decides to go faster (which he will in a second) he’ll need something to keep him on-course so he doesn’t accidentally scrape his teeth over Isaac, and goddamn it having a big mouth is a spectacular gift sometimes.

He reaches out with one hand and takes Isaac’s, and Isaac clutches at it spastically before he realizes that Stiles is moving it towards his head, and Isaac finishes the motion for him while breathing out “Stiles” and Stiles wants to make him say his name more, harder, always. Stiles uses his other hand to do the same with Isaac’s other hand, and when Isaac has both hands on Stiles’s head he kind of smiles around the cock in his mouth and looks up at Isaac. Isaac’s half-up, watching with _this look on his face holy shit_ , and Stiles closes his eyes, bends his neck, and goes in for the kill.

He bobs up and down on Isaac’s dick as quickly as he can, sucking hard, concentrating mostly on not overbalancing. He feels more than hears the tearing noises Isaac is making, and he pulls up, sucking only on Isaac’s head, before licking it quickly back-and-forth and then plunging down on it again. Isaac moans his name over and over and over again and Stiles feels like fistpumping, but instead he just pumps his mouth around Isaac’s cock, trying to make him feel even slightly as good as he made Stiles feel, gripping the base of him tight-but-not-hard and gripping his hip _hard_ because goddamn it he can and when Isaac’s hips start to jerk and Stiles knows Isaac is close, he pulls off his cock quickly and whispers “come for me” before plunging his mouth back onto it, moving his head up and down, swallowing hard. Isaac yelps out Stiles’s name as his cum shoots down Stiles’s throat, and Stiles does his best to keep up and keeps swallowing until he’s finally finished. Isaac is shaking all over, moaning, whining high in his throat, and the name that keeps coming out of his mouth is Stiles’s own, and a warm shot of pleasure shoots through Stiles’s body. He swallows the last bit of cum and then licks Isaac’s cock gently, bathing it, but by the broken noises Isaac’s making he wouldn’t be able to tell him if it _did_ hurt so Stiles stops and swallows a few times before leaning over the bed to where Isaac put the water and drinking about three-fourths of what’s left before sloshing the last bit about like Isaac had. He caps the swallow that’s left and maneuvers his fucking god of a boyfriend between his sheets and comforter, still moaning Stiles’s name, before crawling in beside him.

He kisses Isaac’s cheek, feeling suddenly shy. “ _That_ good, huh?”

Isaac chuckles against him, tosses a leg over him, and cuddles up to him until his head is under Stiles’s chin. Stiles feels him press a kiss to his chest. “That good.”

He whispers “I love you” into Isaac’s head, amazed at how quickly he’s dropping off, and he feels more than hears Isaac’s response, quiet and tentative but still completely true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY CRAP THAT THING GOT WAY OUT OF HAND. So I hope you can understand why it was a bit delayed-it's a little over 4,000 words more than I anticipated, and that is alllll sex. What isn't sex, is feels. This is just apparently how I write.
> 
> Emmie, I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who read this, I hope it was as good for me as it was for you. ;D


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